One Magic Night (6 page)

"Going somewhere?"  Deke asked silkily, turning his head to watch Ty thrust his arms into his jacket.

"Yeah," Ty growled.  "Out to look for some peace and quiet."

Deke closed his eyes and laid his head back down on the pillow.  "Don't slam the door, okay?”

Ty’s answer was to close the door with a violent silence that told Deke he had stretched their friendship to its limit.

Ty wasn't sure at first what had dragged him up out of sleep. He came to consciousness reluctantly. Then he heard them, the clear chiming of church bells. He had never heard a bell rung with such vigor. He could almost see the small boy who must be pulling on the rope to make the sound echo against the hills with such repeated joyousness. He lay still, listening, feeling the discordant, yet melodious clang resound through the valley. Those church bells were a part of Leigh Carlow's life. She had heard them every Sunday since when? Five years ago? Yes, that was what Dean had said. She's been in Springwater five years. And during that time she had not become engaged or married.

Dammit, he had to stop thinking about her. But he couldn't. He'd prowled restlessly through Springwater last night, walking for hours until he was exhausted in an attempt to put her out of his mind. It hadn't worked. He seemed to be obsessed with her, had been from the moment he looked at those pictures of her with her mother. Those pictures had goaded him into driving miles into the Adirondacks to ask Dean endless questions, including the one about men. "Haven't there been any men in her life, any love affairs?"

Dean had given him a straight look. "She'll have to answer that question for you. I can't."

Ty had felt a rough impatience at the man's protectiveness, but now, seeing Leigh, he understood it. Outwardly, she was cool, self-contained. But there was a vulnerability about her that made him ache to know her better.

He couldn’t give in to it.  By Monday, possibly Tuesday at the latest, he would be out of here. All he had to do was retain his hold on reality till then. Once he returned to California and started research on another celebrity’s child, he would forget her…if he could.

He listened to Deke's heavy, even breathing. He'd been a fool to let Deke get under his skin last night.  He just hadn't wanted to see Deke get involved, that was all. At least he, Ty, had showed some sense. He'd stayed away. That was the only thing to do, stay away. He’d tell her he was no longer interested in interviewing her and he'd get the car fixed and he'd get the hell out. He was a sensible, logical man, and he'd never yet lost his head over a woman.  He wasn't about to start now.

If only those bells would stop ringing, maybe he could quit thinking about her, about how he wanted her like hell, more every time he saw her, how he wanted to possess that cool mouth again and make it pulse with warmth, how he wanted to run his hands over her slim body and discover its secret, sensitive places, and make love to her again and again. 

He threw back the covers, glancing over at the still-sleeping Deke. He had to do something to divert his mind: write, work. Then later, he'd go see her, tell her he was no longer interested in interviewing her. She would be relieved, and he would be, too.

Then why wasn't he? Why did he feel irritated and restless?  It must be because he was anxious to get out of Springwater.

When Leigh Carlow stepped out of the church door, the breeze caught at her yellow hat. She reached up and clutched at the brim, holding it with slender fingers as she walked down the sidewalk, her high-heeled pumps making her body sway with a willowy grace in the yellow linen suit she wore. The sun had risen bright and warm, and she wore no coat.

"Leigh, darling."

She turned. From the group of people who were clustered in the autumn sunshine in the front of the church, Hunt, looking much slimmer in his dark navy suit than he had in his costume Friday night, stepped out and grasped her elbow. "How are you?"

"Fine. I didn't see you in church," she said, more for something to say than anything else.

"I sat where I always do. Strange you didn't see me." He frowned for a moment and then his face cleared. "All right if I stop by this afternoon and pick up your costume?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. See you later, darling. Got to run." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, and she caught the scent of his cologne, a cloying, spicy scent. He walked away and left her standing there, making her realize how overpowering his cologne was. The scent of another man drifted through her mind, a clean, masculine smell mingled with the smoky aroma of a fall night crisp with stars.

"Going out with Hunt tonight?" Eve stood beside her, tall and slender in a silky green dress, her black hair blowing around her head.

"No. Were you coming over?"

"No," Eve echoed, her face wry. “I’m not coming over."

"You sound positively unfriendly this morning," Leigh murmured.

"You're lucky I'm even speaking to you." There was a feverish brightness around Eve's eyes, as if she had hardly slept last night.

"I needed moral support," Leigh said blandly.

"Well, get your morals supported somewhere else after this, okay? Good old reliable Eve is no longer available as a port in a storm."

The waspishness in her words rolled harmlessly off Leigh. She had known Eve too long and they had shared too much for Leigh to be offended.  She knew that, for the first time in her life, Eve was running scared.

"Remember what I said," Eve cautioned, patting her arm, her gesture at complete variance with her words, "A friend leaves a friend alone.”

Leigh kept her face expressionless. "I can take a hint."

"Just until Buck Rogers leaves town, okay?"

Leigh laughed and tilted her head up under her hat, still holding the brim. "Roy Rogers was the cowboy.  Buck Rogers was a space hero."

"Ranch, galaxy, who cares where he came from?  Just so he goes away.  And soon.  Until then, you don't know me."

A smile lingered on Leigh's mouth. "What a fair-weather friend you turned out to be."

"You guessed it. Thank goodness you're smart as well as beautiful. See you in school."

Eve turned and left, the green silk fluttering around her legs. Leigh watched her go, her mouth lifted in a wry smile. Eve was her own woman, and you had to take her as she was.

After saying "good morning" to several of the parents and a few of her students, Leigh turned for home.  She hadn't bothered to drive; she had walked to church, and now she set off, her heels clipping rhythmically on the sidewalk. The breeze died down, and she took off her hat and enjoyed the feeling of walking in the warm sunshine. The blue sky and the hills mottled with splotches of red and orange maple leaves and dark green pines gave her a feeling of well-being. She strode along purposefully, and it was almost with a sense of regret that she reached the house and climbed the four steps to Viola's porch.

The sight of her punched the breath from Ty’s lungs. She was a vision of grace and movement, clad in yellow, her honey hair flying free around her face and shoulders. There was a freshness about her, and a studied grace in the way she walked up the stairs that was utterly feminine, utterly destroying. The sensible thoughts, the cool decision to put her out of his mind fled. All that remained was a driving compulsion to talk to her, to be with her, and to possess her.

Stunned, Leigh stood and stared at their merging reflections. Her hair disheveled by the breeze, her cheeks flushed from the fresh air, the yellow suit she wore made a ghost image over the glass-distorted view of him. It was as if their two separate bodies, male and female, were merging on another plane.  Her skin prickled with a fey sense of alarm.

Framed in the oval of wood, the dark, beautiful face and well-cut, controlled mouth hardened, and the black silky lashes dropped down. Whatever it was he was feeling, he didn't want her to see it. What was it? Disappointment that she hadn't succumbed to his charm?

Bitterly aware of an inner struggle of her own, she stiffened and took an instinctive step backwards away from the door. He stepped out onto the porch. Deke followed, looking sleepy but familiar in his blue denim jacket, jeans, and leather boots.

Ty said, "Good morning."

His voice rumbled in a low timbre that was disturbingly sensual, too much a reminder of the words he had muttered in her ear and the kiss they had shared in the dark before the dawn.

"Hello." The word seemed to stick in her throat.

“Morning, Leigh. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Deke's voice had a cheerful, nonthreatening sound about it. She relaxed slightly and smiled at him. "Yes, it is." The breeze freshened, and she reached up and brushed back a strand of hair that floated across her cheek.

Ty took a step away from her and thrust his hand into one of his pants pockets, as if he were anxious to go.  Deke shot him a sidelong glance and then turned to Leigh. "I left my tobacco pouch in your apartment last night. We were going out to buy me another, but if you're going right up…"

"Yes, yes, I am.  I did find it, and I came down with it before I went to church, but your apartment was quiet. I didn't want to disturb you."

“We slept late this morning, at least, I did." To Ty, he said, “You were up working though, when I got up."

Ty said coolly, “I had some ideas I wanted to get saved in a file."

There was an odd silence. Self-consciously, Leigh pushed another errant strand of hair away from her face. Ty made a restless movement, and Leigh felt her temper flare.  He couldn't wait to be on his way. She said crisply to Deke, ''I'll go up and get your pouch."

"I'll come with you," Deke said quickly. "You coming, Ty?"

"No. I'm going to go take another look at the car. You can catch up with me later."

Leigh climbed the stairs ahead of Deke, fighting to control her annoyance. It had been on the tip of her tongue to invite them both in for coffee and a sweet roll, but now she was glad she hadn’t given in to the impulse. Ty Rundell was an arrogant man who didn't even have the decency to be civil now that he had no further use for her.

She unlocked the door and crossed to the table where she had left Deke's pouch, picked it up and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm not usually so careless."

"Maybe you had other things on your mind last night."

"Maybe I did." He stood for a moment, just holding the tobacco pouch, staring down at it. "Ty will probably be working all afternoon. Think Eve would throw me out if I went around to see her?"

"Chances are she will," Leigh said steadily. She studied his face, then smiled. "But an old stunt man like you should be able to take a fall or two and bounce right back, shouldn't you?”

Deke grinned at her. "You think so? I don't know.  My timing might be off."

"She lives at the end of this cross street next to the creek in a small white house. You can't miss it."

Deke's smile widened. "Thanks." Again, there was a silence. Then he said easily, "Ty's not usually so brusque."

"Isn't he?" She laid her hat on the table and turned. "You don't have to apologize for him. He's a grown man.  He's responsible for himself."

Deke's shoulders moved under the faded denim. "Maybe, maybe not." He studied her for a long moment, until Leigh wished heartily that he would take his pouch and go. He was far too perceptive. "We're all responsible for each other in one way or another."

"Are we?" she shot back without thinking.

Their eyes locked for a long moment before Deke's flickered away. "Yeah, I think so." Then he said in a light tone, "Good-bye, Leigh." He lifted the little pouch. "Thanks for not smoking my tobacco." His grin was irrepressible.             

She smiled back at him. "It’s not my brand.”

“Good thing.”  He threw her a salute, pivoted and left, his closing of her door creating a poignant silence in the apartment.  For a long moment she stood staring after him. Whatever Deke had meant about shared responsibility, he couldn't have been directing it at her. Determined to shake off her edginess, she went into her bedroom to change into jeans and a cotton blouse.  In the kitchenette, she ate a light lunch while correcting papers, but her gaze kept drifting away to the sunshiny view outside her skylight windows. When she found the fifth wrong answer to the same question, she knew it was because she had worded the question poorly.  What had she been thinking?  She threw down her red pen in disgust, her restless mood returning with a vengeance.

The long, slanted windows offered a full view of the weeping willow tree, and her thoughts churned on, serving up the feel of Ty Rundell's arms around her body, his lips on hers. He had made her feel emotions she vowed she would never feel again. She whirled around and went into her bedroom to snatch up a navy sweater. Tossing it over her shoulder, she went through her door, closing the self-locking latch behind her. She ran down the top flight of stairs, turned the corner of the landing, and nearly knocked Ty down.

The brush of that hard lean body against her own was bad enough. The scent of good leather and sun-tossed hair and clean man nearly unhinged her. She thrust herself backwards, her palms missing the edges of his open jacket to come in direct contact with T-shirt-covered hard, male flesh.  "I'm sorry," she said instantly, dropping her hands. She took another step back and watched him, her eyes wary as a cat's.

The five-foot-square space of the landing shrunk. The wind had plucked at his dark, full head of hair, rearranging it in a style that framed his head. The crystal clear blue eyes were more vividly blue in the tanned face, the mobile mouth lifted slightly in a faint smile.  Why was he here? He was supposed to be fixing his car.